10 years ago to the day I was in Maine with my sister and mother, staying with one of my oldest and dearest friends. We scrambled along rocky beaches, and went to a bunch of my favourite cafes and distilleries in Portland. It was my mother's first time in the state, and it was fun to get to show her around a place I'd visited multiple times before. My sister was, back then, the healthiest person in my family, climbing rocks like a mountain goat.

I keep crying the last few days, and I'm struggling whenever I see photos from that long ago. My sister so vibrant, myself still so hopeful.

So many people are travelling right now, and posting about it on social media. I love seeing the photos and hearing the stories, and yet I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm also desperately envious. So many places I'd rather be than here.